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Ah...my tattoo.
The male in front of me glared over my shoulder at my brother. His entire face had gone hard and tight. When he tilted his head back to me, every ridged line softened. “You’re bleedin’, darlin’.”
Decker scoffed behind me. “Darlin’? Darlin’? What is this ‘darlin’ shit?”
I shook my head and fought the urge to wipe at the stickiness covering my chin and neck. “It’s rogue blood. I injured one of them.”
Injured? I’d torn into that bastard. Ripped flesh. Broken bones. He would never recover from what I’d done to him.
The male’s hand came up to my forehead. He pushed back my hair and ran a fingertip down my cheek, leaving a warm trail. He brought that finger to his nose, then into his mouth. His dark eyes closed slowly, as if he savored the taste. When he looked at me again, he shook his head and said, “That’s not rogue blood.”
I reached up to find a tender lump at my hairline. “I didn’t even feel it.” I hadn’t felt the pain on my hip from my fall, either, but it was also making itself known.
“I should’ve been here,” he said. “I should’ve been here. I’m so sorry.”
“How could you know? They came out of nowhere. They hid. They—”
“So you’re just going to fucking ignore me now?” Decker butted in.
Not hardly.
Deck’s irritation felt like fire ants on my skin.
Say nothing.
“Well, are you going to answer me or not?”
Not. I’m dead to you, brother. You said so yourself.
I took a breath and went on. “They destroyed the radios—”
“And what the fuck is that all over your back?” Decker demanded again.
I didn’t need to look to know Deck was pointing in my direction.
Say nothing.
I refused to let him draw me into an argument. Never again.
The dark-haired male gave my brother a death glare, then stepped past me. “Your sister is injured. She also has rogue blood on her.”
How did the relationship with my twin become so fractured that he’s more concerned over a haircut and ink?
The protective male wasn’t my blood or even a member of my pack, but I felt the strangest spark of soul-deep connection with him.
Would he see my tattoo? This male? Would he care?
I shivered at the thought he might like it.
“Put some damn clothes on, Des,” Deck snapped.
“You have no right talkin’ to her like—”
“I have every right. She’s my sister, not yours!” Decker shouted.
The male leaned down and snatched something off the ground. The weight of his denim jacket landed on my shoulders. The scent of a sun-warmed pine forest engulfed me. I wanted to breathe him in and, for a moment, forget about all my pack-mates lying cold and dead.
“What is your problem, Decker?” the male asked. “Can’t you see—”
